a matter of time
by Caliente
Summary: one-shot vignette set after the film –– When Yeoman Janice Rand was assigned to personally assist Captain James T. Kirk, she knew he'd be trouble for her. She just didn't know how much... –– mostly one-sided Kirk/Rand; WARNING: not an explicitly happy couple ending


**Author's Note:** Right, so I'm back to try a proper Star Trek XI fic this time. This is my first real attempt at Kirk/Rand here, so please be gentle. Um, yeah. I also tried something kind of different here with the tenses/perspective here. If I've done my job right it should be obvious which are which but, in case it isn't, all the Janice sections (excepting the first and last tiny bits) are in past tense and the others plus the Kirk section are present tense as they're... you know, the present. This is (sadly) unbetaed, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know! I tried to clean it up nice-like but one never knows. Think that's about it. Cheers!  
**Disclaimer: **Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.

**a matter of time**  
by, Caliente

In the end it comes down to one thing and one thing only: time. Time is the only real measure she has when it comes to him. Everything else is constantly in flux. (It's part of what fascinates and frustrates her about him.) But, as usual, she's already two steps head of herself…

* * *

It only took ten minutes, upon their first meeting, for Janice Rand to decide that James Tiberius Kirk had likely been born solely to destroy every bit of nerve she'd ever built for herself. For one thing, he'd been fresh out of the shower and shirtless. For another, he'd had just about the most charming puppy dog pout she'd ever seen as she tried to explain to him who she was and why he needed to listen to her.

And then there was Captain Kirk's theory on organization—it simply didn't exist. Or maybe it did but only in a way that he seemed to understand, which made her position as his yeoman all the more difficult. (Why did it have to be _her_ job to make certain he completed all the standard regulatory reports and logs in a timely manner? Starfleet had conveniently left out how much handholding her job apparently required.)

Sufficed to say, Janice knew James T. Kirk was going to be trouble from the start. (But, honestly, who hadn't? He didn't have the reputation he did without reason.)

* * *

It only took a month for the clenching feeling Janice felt whenever she needed to meet with the Captain to turn from anxious dread over what mess he'd made for her to clean up that day to… something else. Something that she really couldn't afford to be feeling, not if she wanted to keep her job. (And she'd worked damn hard for it, so she'd like to be keeping it, thanks.)

But, of course, there was nothing she could do about said feeling. Because said feeling just _refused_ to go away. It refused in any way, shape or form to listen to her. And spending anywhere between two to six hours with the Captain _daily?_ _Not _helpful at all. But it _was_ her job and she was nothing if not determined to do it well.

So Janice quelled the feeling as best she could, determined to move on. And a determined Janice Rand was a true force to be reckoned with.

* * *

It only took six weeks for Janice to realize that _moving on_ wasn't working. So she did what she did best—she made lists and planned and became generally determined to find something that _did_ work. Leave it to James T. Kirk to foil her at every turn. The man was like the weather—he couldn't be controlled, only dealt with.

Janice tried sending other yeomen to spend face time with Kirk. That backfired spectacularly when the Captain took to staking out Janice's office because he didn't like the perfume Reilly wore or Craig couldn't understand his shorthand. Then he'd pull out the puppy-dog pout she _just couldn't resist_ and insist it always be _her _and that would be the end of that.

She tried dating other men but they were inevitably compared to Kirk—and they always came up short. Worse, the Captain seemed to have some kind of extra-sensory ability to know when she was out on a date and it never failed that he'd have some kind of _emergency_ that required her assistance. There weren't many second dates. Never a third.

Despite it all, Janice couldn't blame them. What man wanted to always be second—literally and figuratively? And she didn't blame Kirk, either. He was only expecting her to do her job, after all.

* * *

It only took four and a half months for Janice to break. She was sitting in her office organizing the captain's meals for the week when she suddenly burst into hysterical tears. It was with hitched breaths and tearstained cheeks that she began drawing up her transfer request. She hated to do it; she loved her job, loved that she'd earned a spot on the fleet _flagship_.

Unfortunately, she was also head over heels for James T. Kirk and there was something just nauseating about planning and preparing his dates for him. (Though they were few and far between all things considered—the Captain had been remarkably restrained when it came to his crew. No, it was all visiting dignitaries, temporary transfers and alien encounters for him.)

Not that it would've mattered _anyway_. Captain Kirk had never noticed Janice Rand a day in her life. Sure, he acknowledged and worked with her but she had the distinct impression he'd never really _seen_ her. And she didn't honestly blame him; Janice had been nothing if not average her entire life—average height, average build, average blonde hair pulled into a regulation bun.

Honestly, who'd see her when there were all the Gailas and Uhuras of the universe? Janice figured she was lucky she hadn't faded into the _Enterprise _paneling all together.

* * *

Janice Rand is always, _always_ punctual. And if she can't make an appointment for any reason, she always, _always _sends a message or another yeoman. So when James T. Kirk doesn't hear from her or another yeoman even five minutes after their meeting had been scheduled to begin, he is understandably concerned.

When he asks, the computer informs him that his yeoman is in her office. Although it would be infinitely easier to just comm her, Jim is worried something might be _really_ wrong. So he honestly doesn't think twice before exiting his ready room and heading down there himself. The only thing on his mind is the wellbeing of one Janice Rand.

When he arrives, Jim rings her office to no avail. He tries to enter but finds she (or someone else—a thought that does _not_ sit well with him) has locked the doors. Being the captain does have its perks, though, and he overrides it easily with his code.

Despite the various scenarios he's run through his mind, seeing his yeoman slouched in her chair with puffy red eyes and tear tracks on her face didn't even come close to consideration. She just looks so _defeated_. It tugs at Jim's chest and makes him long to punch whoever it is that's made her come so undone. (It never occurs to him that that someone might be _him_.)

"Rand—Janice," he says haltingly, wincing at the surprise in his voice. Not helpful, that. "What—?"

Janice leaps up, smoothing her skirt and rubbing her eyes hastily. "Captain Kirk. What are you—?" Her eyes catch sight of the chronometer on her wall and she looks momentarily pained. "Sir, I am _so_ sorry. Evaluations—I'm late." She begins scrambling to organize the PADDs on her desk. "I cannot be_lieve_ I allowed myself to act so unprofessionally. Let me just get—"

Somehow, Jim's feet must lead him forward as he watches her in astonishment because suddenly he's standing directly in front of her. "Yeoman." It isn't an order or command (he really only said it to get her attention) as he holds her arms still. The look she casts up at him is so helpless, he feels his chest constrict unpleasantly again. "Jan, what happened?"

"N-nothing, sir," she replies, eyes wide and full of alarm. "I—I just… lost track of time."

She's blinking rapidly as her eyes dart to the side and Jim realizes for the first time that she seemed almost _afraid_. He drops her arms and runs a hand through his hair, confused. What could send someone as unflappable as her so out of sorts? "Janice… I realize I'm not always the easiest guy to work for but you know if you ever need me, I'm here, right?"

If it's possible, she looks _more_ pained for his admission and Jim is more lost than ever. "Of course, sir," she assures him with a smile that doesn't even come _close_ to meeting her eyes.

Jim decides to go for broke. "Jan, you're kind of freaking me out here." (He wants to smooth back the hair that's managed to fall free of her clips—something she would normally _never_ stand for—but he thinks better of the action.) "Obviously you're upset about something and if you don't want to talk, that's fine but just… let me take you to Sickbay or something. _Please_." He needs desperately to be able to help. To be able to make her _not look like that_ anymore.

"I'm all right, sir," Janice promises him with so much sincerity that he very nearly believes her. "Momentary weakness of resolve, nothing more. I swear." She touches his arm and Jim suddenly realizes that somehow she's now comforting _him_. The irony is not lost on him. "I would tell you if it was anything more, honest."

Jim stares at her for a long time—at the way her brown eyes sparkle through the tinge of red that remains, at the innocence of her gaze, at the slight waver of her lips—before nodding once. "You're relieved of duty for the rest of the day." She opens her mouth but he shakes his head. "No arguing. Even yeomen need breaks sometimes, Rand."

She smiles at him again and this time it's more genuine, if still weak. "Understood, sir." She reaches down and picks up a pair of PADDs. "Your schedule for the rest of today," she explains as she hands them over, "and it looks like you'll be picking your own meals for next week."

"I think I can manage," Jim replies with his signature lopsided grin. He tucks the PADDs into his pocket, then gestures toward her office doors. "Let me walk you to your quarters."

Although she looks poised to argue for a moment, Janice simply lifts another couple of PADDs from her desk before heading out. Jim follows, escorting her the short distance to the room she shares with another yeoman. (A woman closer to Bones' age than his or hers, he thinks, but he can't quite remember at that moment.)

The doors hiss open and she turns to face him just before stepping inside, smiling up at him in a way that makes him feel somehow better and worse all at once. "Thank you, sir." The color has begun to return to her cheeks and he's relieved.

Jim pats her shoulder, returning her smile easily. "Anytime, Rand." He pauses for a moment, scratching the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. "And you know that I meant what I said about—"

"I know, sir," she says and her voice holds a promise in it that he doesn't understand. Then she turns and heads into her quarters fully, the doors swishing shut behind her.

It's another minute before Jim heads off—back to his ready room or the bridge, he isn't certain. He has a feeling something more has just happened than even he's aware of and it bothers him that he can't quite figure it out.

The look on Janice's face, though—that bothers him infinitely more. Jim knows he would do just about anything to ensure she never looks at him like that again. Hell, that she never looks like that again _period_. He just… would. And if he's surprised by the conviction of his feelings, well, it's probably because he cares so damn much about the wellbeing of his crew.

Yeah. It certainly doesn't have anything to do with how tiny and hurt Rand had looked when he discovered her in her office. Jim's certain of that. (Mostly.)

* * *

It only takes three minutes for Janice to delete her transfer request after returning to her quarters. Momentary lapse aside, she isn't ready to give up on everything she's worked so hard for—not yet. As for the rest… only time will tell there, she supposes. But she's determined and that's something. (She just hopes it'll be enough. With Captain Kirk, it's never all that easy to tell.)


End file.
